I laugh. “Right, because we all know how much important news she always has to share during her quarterly check-in calls.” I pull my hair out of my ponytail and shake my fingers through it as the loose brown curls fall around my shoulders. I look like my mother; probably another reason why I’m so terrified to end up like her. I do my best impression, with exaggerated enthusiasm and her signature tongue-click after each sentence. I stretch out my fingers and put my imaginary phone to my ear. “Have you been watching The Bachelor, did you see who he picked?” Click. “And did I tell you I’m not eating eggs, or carbs, or foods that start with a G anymore?” Click. “Not anything white either.” Click. “You know what white foods do to your body, don’t you?” Click.

I hang up my imaginary phone on my thigh. Aunt Sarah’s judging brown eyes are right—I’m being such a bitch right now. Takes one to raise one. I turn the movie back on, and my voice is almost a whisper. “I’ll take my chances that it can wait until tomorrow.”

Chapter

Five

OLIVIA

I hate these khaki shorts more than anything I’ve ever hated before. Why did I trust Aunt Sarah to buy me shorts? How do I not own khaki shorts? And better question, where do girls find these cute little khaki shorts that don’t look ridiculous? The pair Aunt Sarah bought me at the mall have long square pockets that bunch at my hips, and they’re super long. Like nun-shorts long.

“I figured there was probably a length requirement of some sort.” There is very little sympathy in Aunt Sarah’s voice when I sulk around the living room, moaning about how I don’t have time to get anything else before my first day at River Depot.

“No length requirement. Just khaki.” I drop onto the couch and moan when my shorts only ride up to mid-thigh. “The girl at the front desk was practically showing cheek.” Which is a bit of an exaggeration, but she definitely did not have camp-counselor shorts on. I don’t need to show cheek, but I wouldn’t mind a little thigh.

“Would it make you feel better if I dropped you off?” Aunt Sarah asks.

“Riding my bike is the least of my problems at this point.”